


Don't Lend Me a Hand

by lucybun



Series: Little Deaths in My Hands [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Bodily Fluids, Crack, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-17
Updated: 2011-02-17
Packaged: 2017-10-15 17:57:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/163378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucybun/pseuds/lucybun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John doesn't want Sherlock's help, but Sherlock is determined to give it anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Lend Me a Hand

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first of two little prompt-fill type ficlets about masturbation. This is a drabbly fill for writers' group Thursday Kink-day prompt which was for fluids, dirty talk, reference to Coke, and the quote "Are you doing it? Have you done it?"
> 
> As the ever insightful darthhellokitty pointed out to me, the second ficlet could be seen as a sort of sequel to this one. These ficlets were Cross-posted at Sherlockbbc under the group title "Little Deaths in My Hands." I've used that as a series title here, but I want to give a proper heads-up to anyone who may have already read this under that title at LJ.

"No, Sherlock, just NO."

"I don't see what the problem is. I bring you off with my hands fairly often."

"Not into a bleeding plastic cup. You're not jerking me off for a specimen. No."

"That makes absolutely no sense logically."

"Well, fuck your logic, Sherlock Holmes. If you want the damn sample you're just going to have to wait for ME to do it."

Sherlock truly didn't understand why John was being so patently absurd about this. It was a simple enough proposition. All he wanted was your basic sperm sample. John had agreed to the donation, and Sherlock had stolen a sterile specimen cup from Bart's. He'd thought they'd go back to the flat, then he'd give John a hand-job and collect the semen.

John, however, was having none of that. Had shot down Sherlock's plan with an emphatic, "We're not fucking for science, Sherlock." To which Sherlock had countered with the obvious, "I wasn't planning to 'fuck' you, John. Just masturbate you."

At that, John had jerked the cup from his fingers, stormed into the bathroom, then slammed and locked the door. Sherlock heard him yell through the door, "If you want it, this is the only way you're getting it."

So, Sherlock had left him to it. For all of 15 minutes. He was no stranger to John's masturbatory habits. Before they'd become involved sexually, Sherlock had made a bit of a study of those habits. John typically brought himself off in the shower in the mornings to dispel his morning erection. He also sometimes jerked-off in his room to a few magazines he thought well-hid. He had even wanked in the bathroom like this a few times, usually after a particularly exciting case. And, as in most things, John was reliable in his timing. His time variance until orgasm only ranged between 11 and 13 minutes. He was a bit like clockwork. Therefore, at the 15 minute mark, Sherlock began to lose his patience.

He walked to the door and asked, somewhat louder than normal, "Are you doing it? Have you done it?"

Which was answered with a disgruntled, "Go away, Sherlock! I'm working on it."

"It's taking somewhat longer than normal, John."

"How the hell do you know how long it takes me to wank? Wait, you know what? Don't answer that. Just go away and let me do this."

"Would you like me to fetch your magazines?"

"My ma-? No, Sherlock, I do not want my magazines. Now, go. Away."

"I could help, you know?"

"I'm not going through this again. You are not helping me do this."

"No, I don't mean I could help you with my hands. But, perhaps I could still help."

"I'd love to know how you figure that one."

"Would you, John?" he asked, pitching his voice deliberately low. "Would you like to know how I could help you? Well, I could come in there and kiss you, suck on your tongue and bite your lips while you tug on your cock. I could run my hands through your hair, brush my fingers along the nape of your neck while I lick along the rim of your ear. I could suck that spot just behind your ear, run my mouth down the side of your neck while I massage your scalp. I could lift your shirt and run my tongue around your nipples. Take one into my mouth, lick it and suck it till it's soaking wet. Then move onto the other, suck on it while my fingers toy with your other wet, swollen, hard, little nipple. While I'm doing that, I could move my hand around behind you to your balls. Feel their weight in my palm, roll them in my hand, tug them gently while you pull on your cock. Your hard, wet dripping cock. And then I could pull off your nipple, drop to my knees and watch that cock twitch as you pull on it. Watch your hand move up and down, watch ejaculate begin to slowly ooze from the slit. Open my mouth and take in a breath over your cock, take in it's scent. And then let that breath out. Blow my hot, moist breath all over the wet tip of your cock. Don't you think that would help, John?"

After a few moments of silence, Sherlock heard the sound of John moving around behind the door. Of water running in the sink as the wonderfully fastidious doctor washed his hands. John unlocked and swung the door open to a smirking flatmate with his own healthy erection tenting his trousers. John handed over the cup with a "Here you go," and headed into the kitchen to fetch himself a can of Coke.

Sherlock blinked for a moment and then followed him into the kitchen. "John, don't you think the polite thing to do would be to return the favor?"

John sat down at the table, opened up the paper, and answered, "Yes. Yes it would be. So...bathroom's all yours."


End file.
